Thursday, July 7, 2011


I've never had movers before. I mean, I know we had them moving across the state as a kid, but my memory is limited to sitting in my room with half of my toys packed and the other half strewn around, talking to my mom telling me to throw everything into boxes so the other people could carry it all.

That's it. That's all I remember until the night we arrived among stars and what my brother said was the smell of sagebrush. Uh huh, sure. Whatever that scent was, it permeated the air. Ever noticed that each place has it's unique scent? I have.

But enough reminiscing. Usually when I'm involved with moving there are lots of friends and family to load my mounds of crap into a rental truck. A flight or three of stairs is almost always present.

This time is different. Granted, I'm not the one moving. Amazing, I know. But really, we pack it all up into neat and tidy boxes, and then these big strong guys show up and whisk it out the door, down the stairs, and into a cavernous truck. It's almost magical. Now if only they were bodybuilders with a handsome face to match a chiseled physique. That would be magic.

How much money do you think they make to do this? Probably not enough...especially with the temperatures above 80 and inching closer to 90 as I write this. I'm so glad it's not me sweating incessently.

Sometimes its nice to just watch.

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